


oh, sinking love (every satellite up here is watching)

by laughs_in_distortion



Series: Cloud of Unknowing [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Loneliness, Loss, M/M, Spoilers for The Magnus Archives Season 5, Unhappy Ending, ending speculation, highly doubt it's canon tho lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:53:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29066127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laughs_in_distortion/pseuds/laughs_in_distortion
Summary: The world has not been set right. It is only a little emptier.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: Cloud of Unknowing [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2132502
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	oh, sinking love (every satellite up here is watching)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to worms for reading this fic over for me! <3

The quiet sound of a tape recorder clicks in his ears. Martin's mind is pure fog and static, mingling in a horrible dance. 

The scalding gaze of The Eye grates across his bones. It stares into him, and it feels as though his chest is being slowly peeled open.

Martin feels his mouth moving, his throat pulsing with sound without any of his own will, and he wishes he was less numb, because maybe he could find a way to feel horrified in any capacity but from a distance.

"His skin is still warm." He says, his voice trembling. "His skin is warm like when you embrace him in your bed at night. Did you know that this is how it would feel just after he was gone? As though he still might be there and your mind is lying to you?"

Martin can not breathe, but it does not matter, because he is still _speaking._

"Did you know that you would not be able to process his absence, so used to his presence you had become, so _reliant_ on it," he coughs, feeling his face become painfully hot, his throat picking out words through a heavy, aching dryness like a music box plucking a tune from rusted gears. "It didn't take long, did it Martin? You are so afraid of being _lonely_ again." 

Martin chokes, chokes and chokes on the words ripping themselves from himself, and still he can not _feel_ what is happening. The fog around his eyes grows thicker. 

"Well…" He feels bile rising on his tongue. "Y-your mind is not lying to you. Jon is not here. Jon i-is…" his chest heaves, twitching, his eyes are throbbing at the corners. He can not speak the words, but the words are clawing and clawing and _clawing_ their way out, and they cut up his tongue as they emerge. 

"Jon is not here. Jon is not anywhere. Jon does not exist anymore. Where he once was is now emptiness. And a h-home for...for maggots."

His fingernails scratch at earth as he chokes until he retches. Static builds behind his eyes.

"He will...he will never…exist...again."

He can't breathe. Maybe he never could.

"Touch his hand." His own voice is so soft and so far away. "You will feel it already growing cold." 

His fingers wander back to Jon's skin. He watches them do so without any intention. Skin that is no longer Jon's skin and it is damp and dull and it is losing warmth, so slowly and yet Martin can swear he _feels_ it fading. 

"He has left you. And soon the illusion of him will too." 

Shivering moisture and chill is washing over him. It is getting harder to see. The hand he's touching grows colder. Maybe his own, too. 

Jon's eyes stare into nothing. 

And so do his. 

"You failed him. You understand that, right? His death was a pointless one. You promised to do all you could, and yet you did _nothing_. And it saved _no one._ It was just another painful, terrified, unremarkable end."

The fog is now a suffocating grey all around him. There are aching tears that won't leave his eyes. 

"And now, Martin Blackwood." 

His voice is a creaking whisper. He coughs on his own heavy lungs and heavier tongue. 

"You are alone."

The fog cradles him. Gently, it welcomes him home.

"Just as you always really were."


End file.
